New Site!!

This blog, along with my main blog, have been moved to a new, wordpress site, which can be found at:

http://dustinsview.com/

I hope you enjoy the new site!

After the Emperor!

As I begin typing these words unto an empty page, I am fully aware of the onslaught of impassioned criticism my writing is bound to unveil. Admittedly, I am finding it somewhat difficult to type, for my hands tremor slightly at the mere thought of the incessant scorn that may forever befall my name. In fact, I must admit the word ‘slight’ in no way describes the violent shaking in which my hands are currently engaged, and it has taken no less than two full hours simply to formulate the past three sentences in a legible manner.

Yet I must persist. I must continue to type. For the fear that consumes me is dwarfed by the passion that pulses through every fiber of my being. Yes, it is passion that drives me on—that forces me to continue. It is passion for my cause, and sheer conviction in my beliefs, that shatters the icy embrace of terror, and forces me onward.

For no matter the response I receive, these words must be written. No matter what awaits me upon the publication of this document, be it humiliation, malevolence, or even death, I must make known my convictions. I must share with the world the ideas that have befallen my tortured mind. Listen closely now, as I impart my great epiphany upon you all. For the health, happiness, and longevity of our society, I have found it absolutely vital, that we, the people of the world, in grand and triumphant unison, cast off our rags of oppression, discard our garbs of injustice, absolve ourselves of our tyrannical habiliments! Yes, you heard me correctly. It is absolutely vital we cease to wear clothes.

Are you a brand, my dear friends? Are you a manufactured, mass-produced, cluster of mundane colors and patterns, oafishly compressed into a perverse form? No, my friends, you are a human being: a magnificent creature, the great masterwork of many millions of years of evolution. You are a glorious individual, a force of grace, distinction, and splendor! So why, oh why, would you confine yourself to be nothing more than the manifestation of shallow materialism? Of corporate greed and indifference? It is in a detestable assault on all that is good and natural and pure that the greedy business man has convinced us all that our naked bodies are shameful and obscene; that only when buried beneath manufactured clothing can we be beautiful and complete. But this is a lie as great as any— a lie as great as the flatness of the earth, or cheese-based composition of the moon. This is the great American lie, and we must fight it to the end. Let us ride into the battle of self-preservation, hoisting the transcendent flag of our own naked bodies! Let us show the greedy businessman we do not need his lies, for we have achieved self-actualization without his dubious aid.

For my brothers and sisters stationed in the colder regions of the United States, I realize that participation in this clothing revolution may pose a practical dilemma, but let me say this: the mind, when filled with strong enough resolve, can overpower the body in remarkable ways. Yes, in the midst of a frigid Montana winter, your liberated figure may ostensibly experience something akin to extreme coldness. But, if you simply allow the momentous revelation that you are no longer a puppet in a play of fools to permeate your consciousness, I think you will find yourself remarkably warm.

If the snug embrace of liberty proves insufficient against nature’s whims there exist a number of techniques that should allow you to preserve both your warmth and your dignity. You could coat your entire body in a thick layer of Vaseline, for example, entrapping heat without obscuring your glorious suit of autonomy. Alternatively, several layers of saran wrap should do the trick. Whatever you do, just don’t let the fire that is your spirit be extinguished by the suffocating conformity of your clothes!

I can sense revolution, my dear friends, eagerly lurking just around the bend. The people are growing intolerant of the corporate masquerade. No longer will we accept that idea that happiness and perfection can be purchased and then worn. Let us follow the example of the Emperor, that admirable lodestar, who dawned his “new clothes” so far before his time. After the Emperor, I say! Join me comrades, and let us cast away our rags of oppression, discard our garbs of injustice! Let us absolve ourselves of our tyrannical habiliments! Let us shine brightly, as glorious individuals, and cease to sulk through the dark anonymity of conformity, embodied by our clothes.

The Origins of Words: Attendance

at·ten·dance

noun\ə-ˈten-dən(t)s\

Most etymological scholars agree this word can be attributed to a 15th century Irish improvisational comedy troop known as Dublin Over. The ten member comedy troop, which would reherse in an active barn, always began their meetings with the execution of an original dance. This ten member dance, or "ten-dance" as they called it, was initially used as a means of loosening up. However, as each group member played an integral role in the dance, it also became a reliable means of checking whether or not all group members were present.

The complex antics would go terribly awry if a single member was missing, leaving the entire party sprawled out in a bewildered heap. They found this terribly amusing, as well as utilitarian, and continued the practice with glee. Written evidence asserts that neighbors often heard the comedy troop remarking: "let's have a ten-dance, then! See if anyone's missing!" The term soon became widespread, and synonymous with taking role.

The Encounter

“Hey,” he said to her, as they passed in the hallway.

“Oh... hi,” came a startled reply, followed by an uneasy smile.

Excitement flushed over him, warm and intoxicating, at the magnificent success of the encounter. For years now he had merely observed her, lovingly coveted her from afar. Suddenly, interaction had been achieved and the giddy joy resulting was overwhelming.

Yet lurking beneath this jubilation, there existed within him a nagging dissatisfaction. The encounter had been limited, he realized. Perhaps nothing significant had transpired at all, and the entire interaction had been nothing more than a fleeting exchange of inconsequential mumblings. In this moment came to him the crushing realization that love is not at all a keyboard insomuch as it is not entirely a mouse, and while any dim-witted monkey could pound on the keys, only a visionary could craft complete sentences. Inundated with that depressing thought, he collapsed into a sticky trashcan, where he remained for the next forty minutes.

She was troubled, too-- annoyed at being approached by such a measly man, and annoyed with herself for responding. It was cruel really, to feign such reciprocity when surely there was none. Or was there? She could not logically conceive there could exist any attraction within her, yet love is not logical, and she could not deny a flame, however small, had been ignited in her chest. Something about the nasal quality of his voice, something about his mangled, wiry figure, something about the way his eyes darted about nervously, like a bewildered bunny rabbit, clouded her mind with debilitating passion.

"Rocket Man?" Is that what They're Calling it?

When Sir Elton John first speculated that Mars “ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids,” there was an uproar in the scientific community. Many skeptics accused Sir John of “a total disregard for the scientific method,” and found his theory to be “lacking in sufficient evidence, proper citations, and also, lyrical coherency.”

Remarkably, NASA issued an official statement just earlier this week confirming the validity of Sir John’s prophetic claim, (first presented over 40 years ago.) “We can now confirm with 99% confidence that Mars ain’t, in fact, the kind of place to raise your kids,” stated NASA spokesperson Bernard Shagindwarf. “However,” he added, “we have found this phenomenon is not attributed to a lack of heat or population, as Sir John initially suspected, but rather, the inexplicable widespread availability of crystal meth."